


Chasing The Moon

by serahdravenstratt232111



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 07:36:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14711858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serahdravenstratt232111/pseuds/serahdravenstratt232111
Summary: Karasuma goes for an early-morning run and comes across a few troubles along the way.





	Chasing The Moon

Chasing the Moon

The sun had not risen upon the land when he left his apartment, locking the door behind him. He was dressed in dark shorts and a light, non-descript black t-shirt. Inside the right-hand pocket was his personal cell-phone (the one he used for work-related matters had 'accidentally' been left behind in his bedroom, off and hidden in blankets) and in his ears and connected to that, was a pair of tiny headphones that drew wires up across his chest and ended when the buds appeared, sticking out of his ears. He personally thought they made him look like some sort of deranged robot, but it offered peace and literal music to his ears to drown out the roar of the city, so, he thought, so be it.

To any who saw him, his mission early this morning would be all too simple; and this time, it was nothing too groundbreaking. He wasn't about to do anything fantastic, he wasn't heading toward some great adventure or, more likely, some new target.

No, this morning, Karasuma Tadaomi was going for a run.

His apartment, purchased for him by the military, was located downhill, chosen for its closeness into the city and the easy access to his workstation at the Academy, bypassing often unmanagable and impossible traffic of such a busy city. It was down this hill he traversed, starting his run at an easy pace. His music (oftentimes hard, but occassionally softer sounds) played in his ears as he glanced upward– and there it was; the moon.

It used to be that Karasuma liked the sight of the moon. Unlike the sun, he could watch it as a kid all he wanted without it hurting his eyes. He also stared behind it, at the stars. It was kind of poetic. Coming from the background he did, in his youth he had shot for the stars– and through many misfortunes and just plain bad luck; he had missed, but even then, he had landed on the moon. Unfortunately, that moon was now destroyed, and in a way, he could be responsible for the missing greater percent... But then, that was classifed information that had no buisness in his thoughts.

He buried the feeling.

 

The cat was fat, bright orange, with sharp teeth and claws, and narrowed, bright emerald-green eyes. It was up higher than Karasuma could reach up with his hands, in a dead cherry tree that hadn't bloomed with the rest of its kin. Its owner was a small girl with brown pigtails, a salmon-pink skirt, and buck teeth that reminded the soldier of an adult beaver. Unlike many people out on the lake front that morning, though, he didn't simply continue on with his buisness; he stopped and began to help get Grumpy the Cat back to the solid ground.

He managed it twenty minutes later by simply snapping the branch the cat lay on. The cat gave out several hisses and scratches that didn't even pierce his skin before he returned it to the child, who gave a squeal before hurridly thanking him and running away back into the crowd.

"That was quite a show. I didn't know you liked cats, Karasuma."

Blinking at the familiar voice, Karasuma turned his head back, glancing behind, and found Irina Jelović standing just behind him. She wore a stunningly white blouse with golden trimmings across the v-neck line and chest, a white hat, black sunglasses, white shorts that didn't even come close to reaching her knees, and white, high-heeled sandals that click-clacked quietly every time she took a step. She also carried a large, white purse and wore an amused smile as she looked him up and down.  
"Out on a run?" Her eyes, sharp like a predator, were not very effective against him. Instead he answered, calmly and taking out the headphones from his ears. Converstations with the Russian native were hardly ever short and sweet. "I didn't expect to see you out and about on a Saturday, what with all the work you take on and all."

"I don't like cats, and yes," Karasuma said, "I'm out on a run. I do have some personal time, you know."

He takes a second glance at what she was wearing and could obviously tell that she had not taken the trip into the city with work-related intentions on her mind. Or she was and he really, really did not want to know.

"What are you doing here, Jelović?"

"I'm shopping," She said, flipping her hair out of her face with an elegant twist of her hand, "My apartment feels empty. I thought giving it a few homely touches would make it feel fuller. Although," She added, smiling in that way she knew annoyed the hell out of him, "It would be fuller if I had some choice company."

Karasuma rolled his eyes and didn't dignify that with a response. Instead– "You're in the wrong district, Jelović," He said, "The waterfront is mostly for tourists and fish mongers. Hail a taxi and tell the driver to take you to Tokyo North. That's where most of the communal shopping buisnesses are located."

Throughout his instructions, Irina's thin, plucked eyebrows raised. Like most, she was not aware that he was native to Japan– and native to Tokyo. 

"Tokyo North, huh? Thanks, Karasuma. And you know," Another of those smiles of hers as she turns quickly on those heels of hers, leaving her hair to catch his cheek, "You don't have to call me by my last name when we're not working. Irina is fine."

She walks away and not a minute later, she was gone, buried in the crowd. 

Karasuma shook his head, placed his headphones back into his ears, and took off down deeper into the waterfront.

 

The waterfront was as breathtaking as usual. It was here he slowed his pace to a walk, taking in the smell of salt and stone and fish, and the sight of children and adults alike enjoying the sand and water. The water here was cool and refreshing, the sand gritty and smooth to unclothed feet. Birds flocked everywhere, and if one were to spend time until the night and kept their noise to a minimum, they could also hear the chirps of dolphins, who had, until recently, became nearly extinct on Tokyo shores. Their return meant that the ban on hunting and killing the species was at least someone observed.

Karasuma was toying with the idea of simply jumping into the water, shorts and all, to cool off, but a scream and a yelp of pain interrupted him. He jerked his head up, his headphones dropping and disappearing into the wet mud at hisi feet, and, forgetting those behind and soon found himself next to a teenager surrounded by other young adults. His feet looked red and swollen. Beside him was a pale-looking creature with tentacles that were so long, they extended back into the swell of the ocean.

His friends looked up when they saw Karasuma approach. They edged away, and one of them dropped a stick that was wet and gooey... Connecting the pieces together, the story of what had happened played in his mind. The soldier gave a sharp shake of his head and snaked a hand under the collar of the injured teenager. He threw him back, getting him away from the creature.

"What the hell, man– " The teenager began to snarl, but stopped as soon as he saw the dark expression swell on his face. "...Wh-whoa, h-hey, cool it, old man... It's cool, Really."

"That's a manatee," He said, ignoring him, pointing at the dead creature, washed ashore, "It's dead, but the tentacles are still poisonous. You were poking it with the stick, weren't you, and then the bright idea popped into your head to kick it. Right?"  
The teenagers were too afraid of him to deny it. They nodded their heads rapidly.

"Stupid. You need to see a doctor," He added, looking up toward the injured teenager, "Your friends can help you back to wherever you came from. Let this be a lesson, won't you? Don't disrespect the living or the dead. It'll come back to haunt you in strange ways... Like poison you with a painful toxin that will shrink 'down below' if not treated right away, if you catch my drift."

The hurt teenager paled, and with a quick, nervous bark, his friends had helped him up and they ran back to shore, still yelling, causing a ruckus that caught the attention of many people. Karasuma watched them go before shaking his head. The toxin, while exceedingly painful, wouldn't do what he had said it would, but forcing them to flee the beach was probably a good decison anyway.

Troubled teenagers like that didn't belong in a peaceful, family setting like this one.

Karasuma turned away and surveyed the manatee critically. The animal had probably been too close to shore when the swells kicked in; and had not been quick enough to return to see before drying up and dying. It was normal for them to wash onto Tokyo's extensive beaches. There wasn't a summer that went by that someone was hurt by a manatee's poisonous tentacles, either through dumb bad luck or ignorance. It was normal.

Well, normal, yes, but dangerous. Karasuma hailed for a lifeguard and thirty minutes later, the manatee was safely removed with their thanks.

Karasuma ducked his head and moved on.

 

The afternoon heat in Tokyo Park was stifling, one hour later, but native to the heat, it hardly caused Karasuma to stop in his run. He was sweaty now, warm in the face, his muscels straining from his continuous workout. He continued through the trees, which somewhat cooled him off, due to their offers of shade. Without his headphones (which had been lost in the sand back at the waterfront) his ears were abuzz with activity.

Many people were out and about now; families, tourists, others going for walks, either by themselves or with friends or a dog or three, the list went on and on. He heard children yelling, he heard the sound of music, smelled barbeque and heard the wind rustling the leaves above his head. It was a perfect day for a run through the park, through and through.

So entranced with all that was going on, he paused his run just as he passed the fountain. In doing so, though, he accidentally stumbled into someone. Both of them were sent backward, but neither fell.

"Hey! Watch it!" The man yelled, causing several eyes aroudn them to flicker in their direction. Blinking, Karasuma watched the man, an adolsecent with bleached blond hair and cold blue eyes, dramatically rub at his stomach. "That hurt!"

The cobalt-haired soldier noted the fact that some men, the others' friends, drew closer to them. His own cobalt eyes narrowed somewhat when the other man took a step toward him, inscensed. Karasuma noticed that the other man was dazed and that a bottle of alcohol sat on the fountain behind him. Heat that had nothing to do with the day had risen.

"I'm not looking for any trouble," Karasuma said, flatly.

"Yeah, well, you found it anyway, pal! You should be more careful!"

In a blur of motion, the drunken man ran toward Karasuma, a fist raised. Karasuma easily evaded the blow but did nothing in retaliation except to step backward. But unbeknownst to the soldier, who had been focused on defusing the situation, a circle had formed and the man behind him pushed him forward. Off-balance, Karasuma stumbled forward, right into his newest adversary.

"Take this!"  
The hit never landed, for at that moment, in a gust of wind, a huge shape appeared in front of Karasuma and all of a sudden, the man was on his back, unconscious. The other men in the circle had taken a step backward, and, threatened and out-matched, they fled, one of them picking up their fallen friend as they ran away. 

Karasuma was about to open his mouth to speak, probably something along the lines of 'thanks', but then the hulking form giggled a mischievous giggle that Karasuma knew all too well, and turned around. Whatever grateful words Karasuma was going to offer the stranger died in his throat when he saw the round, yellow, disguised (but not very well-disguised) always-grinning face of Koro-Sensei.

"Ah! Karasuma-Sensei! It's good to see you out and about!"

"I can't say the same about you," Karasuma quipped. "What are you doing here?"

The yellow-alien crossed his arms... Well, tentacles, and gave a mock-hurt little gasp. "Is that any way to talk to the person who just saved you from an embarassing scene?"

"It wasn't me who would have been embarassed," The soldier sighed. "You're avoiding the question. Don't think I forgot. What are you doing here?"

Another mischevious giggle and Koro-Sensei offers him a large, plastic white bag. Karasuma blinks, then takes the bag from him. He looks into it and sees all sorts of candy and other sweets, with some packs of dry ramen noodles thrown in for good measure. 

Karasuma pushes the plastic bag back into waiting tentacles. Despite his tight features, however, he could feel amusement in his one-word response.

"Right."

Koro-Sensei just laughs. Knowing the alien, he had probably sensed Karasuma's amusement despite his attempts to remain neutral. But he says nothing more, giggling madly one last time, he inclines his baseball cap in a sign of goodbye, and disappears back into the crowd. 

Karasuma didn't take the time to stare after him.

 

Karasuma had slowly begun the assent back to his apartment. The sun was high in the air, the morning gone and given way to the hot sun. His runs usually did not take so long; he was out and back again for only an hour or two... But then again, he had stopped several times. That was not usually the case.

"What are you– oh, no you don't!"

Karasuma's thoughts were interrupted yet again when he heard a woman's yelling, followed by a rush of wind at his side. He spun on instinct, ducking and throwing his fist into something soft. He heard several creaks of bones, and perhaps even heard one or two break under his fingers. The man dropped, clutching his stomach and groaning. 

A familiar, large, white purse also fell onto the ground beside him. He picked it up, blinking, but before he could investigate further, he heard that same voice call out to him. Like the purse, it was very familiar.

"You again!"

Unlike this time, his head didn't jerk up this time.

"Jelović."

And indeed, it was Irina Jelović, out of breath, who met him in that otherwise abandoned street.  
"Karasuma– oh." She looked down, and regarded the man on his knees with a look that the soldier recognized as her 'lioness going in for the kill' look. It wasn't often that it appeared and sometimes, like now, it surprised him. He sometimes forgot himself, that, although she didn't look it, she was a real killer. "...What should we do with this?"

"Leave him," Was his quick response. She regarded him with her 'are you serious' look, to which he answered with a shrug. "I broke a rib or two. He'll be paying for the mistake of stealing your purse for at least several months."

If it was anyone else but him, he had a feeling that she wouldn't have agreed. Instead, she took her purse from him and with a withering look toward the man still unable to move, she stepped back. Karasuma didn't look down or back at the man himself, as they stepped around and continued up the mountain. They were quiet, but not for long. It was Karasuma who broke the silence.

"Want to tell me how you ended up here of all places, Jelović?"

"The cab driver I hailed took me down North, but there wasn't interesting there," She explained, a pink flush beginning to creep into otherwise perfect skin. "I tried getting back to the waterfront, but that cab driver took me here, said I didn't have enough cash to go any further, forced me out of the car, and drove off. I walked around for a few minutes and before I knew it..."

"The thief," He finished her story with a casual shake of his head, "These streets aren't meant for tourists. This is the biggest residential area in Northern Tokyo, housing more than five-thousand locals– and the most crime-riddled. Murders happen here every night. It's a local hotspot for backstreet and gang-related crimes. All the locals know to take the waterfront to avoid this neighborhood, unless they were looking to be mugged or worse."

Irina was still flushing brightly. No doubt, she was embarassed. But this time, his knowledge of the area had piqued her interest, and she couldn't help but question him.

"You're native," She said, for clarification. Karasuma nodded, and then– "Are you still native?"

Though worded extraordinarily carefully (and with tact that Karasuma had assumed that Irina didn't have, really) he knew what she was really asking him; why would he, a high-ranking Japanese-born official of the military still be living in what he just described as an area populated with degenerates, criminals, and even worse people?

He knew the answer before she even asked; he always had. But it wasn't one he was required to share, or even wanted to share, with her. Or anyone else, for that matter.

"Never mind, then." Recognizing his silence– as she had come to expect when it came to questions about really anything pertaining to him or his life– "You don't want to share. Fine. Can you at least tell this tourist how to get back to her apartment before something else happens today?"

"The last time I did that, you ended up almost being mugged," He pointed out. She gave him another famous look– the 'you're really starting to piss me off' look. Not willing to bicker at the moment, Karasuma amended himself quickly, "Look, I live just up the hill from here, and..."

 

"You live here?"

On the outside, his home seemed so small and old. It was painted white, but the paint was wearing down and she could see spots of mold growing over the roof. The garden was like a graveyard; plants that used to grow and bear fruit were dead and rotting, along with remains of whatever used to grow. In their place grew sharp weeds that climbed high into the air. Some were half as tall as Karasuma was. Whatever she had expected his home to look like, this wasn't it.

"Yes," He responded to her question, and he responded very curtly. At his tone, she couldn't help but look away. "Stay outside," He continued, "I'll be right back, Jelović."  
Before she could say anything more, he disappeared inside the house, after unlocking it. She heard the quaint little house creak several times before settling again. 

Alone now, she didn't quite know how to deal with herself. Feeling awkward simply standing in his driveway, she decided to explore. Looking about, she noted his car– sleek black, a small car, and one he didn't choose himself, she added, looking at the government plates on the back of it. It also seemed to be the only car he owned. Moving on, she also saw a toolshed, locked and beaten up. It looked battered, like someone had taken some kind of tool to it in a failed attempted to break in. She also noticed a boarded-up window in the front. The break looked like someone had thrown something into it, causing the window to shatter. Feeling yet more awkward and a million questions running through her mind, she returned to the driveway.

Karasuma was waiting for her. If he minded her taking a look around, he didn't say. Instead, he flashed his keys and nodded toward his car. When they were inside and he had eased them both out of the driveway, that was when he spoke.

"I've lived in that house my entire life."

Simple, but it spoke volumes. Irina opened her mouth to say something, but something told her to simply shut it again, and let him talk. She did just that, and he didn't disappoint.

"It hasn't changed. Well," He relented, "I suppose that isn't fair to say. The neighborhood has gotten worse from when I was a kid. It's a good thing I got out when I did. If I didn't... I doubt we'd be sitting here right now. I was lucky. I didn't see it that way back then– but I was."

When Karasuma pulled into the apartment complex that she was staying at, she didn't question how he knew where to go, despite absolutely no prompting from her. Instead, she got out, and was not surprised when the man got out with her. With Karasuma alive and well, the saying 'chivalry is dead' had no meaning for her. At least, it didn't when he was around.

"Thank you," She said, when they arrived to her front door, "You didn't have to..."

But she was speaking to air. Karasuma's footsteps on the stairs leading back to his car was all she heard. Right before her hand touched the door, however, she heard his voice one last time.

"Don't mention it, Jelović."

And she knew that he wasn't refering to his favor.

 

Twenty minutes later, Karasuma had returned the keys to their usual spot on the counter. He had taken a cup from the old cupboard on the wall when he felt a presense behind him. Before he could turn around, small, frail arms, like a childs', had wrapped themselves around his waist. Whatever that was said was lost in his ears; they were too soft for even his trained ears to pick up.

But even without the words, he knew what was being conveyed.

He turned and returned the old embrace that he remembered from his childhood. For a moment, everything seemed to be okay. The day had tired him, filled with surprising twists and turns, but now, all of those troubles and worries had gone away, just like they used to, in these very arms. They were weaker than they used to, but they had not lost their warmth. They hadn't lost that comfort; for as long as they were still here, with him. 

His world would keep moving forward.

Karasuma spoke only a few moments later, a single word, laced with emotion that he couldn't let the rest of the world hear from him.

"Mother."


End file.
